


ne me quitte pas

by thetealord



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetealord/pseuds/thetealord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something James says reminds Harry of one of his greatest fears and they have a serious discussion about dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ne me quitte pas

**Author's Note:**

> Took a little inspiration from A Single Man here, too.

The sun was just beginning to shine through the curtains when James yawned and stretched, and looped one leg and one arm more around Harry, tangling them tighter together, half on top of him. They'd had a full night of glorious, glorious sex to celebrate their seventh year together, and he didn't think he'd ever felt so happy, so at home in his life. And they'd had a lot of very good nights together.

Harry yawned beneath him, stretched out his long legs, and ran his warm fingers along James's back, across his ribs and the bumps of his spine, down his side to his hip, pulling him closer and holding him there.

"Morning, love," Harry whispered, turning his head to press his face into James's hair, breathing him in and smiling, pressing a kiss to his cheek. James turned so that their lips met, kissed him long and slow, and sighed in contentment.

"Good morning, Harry," he whispered back, and then the two of them just stayed there, enjoying the feel of each other, the warmth and the closeness, with no intention of moving anywhere for a long while.

Just when James thought Harry had fallen asleep again, the older man opened his eyes to look over at him, watching him, and James stroked his boyfriend's hair, running his fingers through the greying strands.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Harry muttered, rubbing at the small of his back.

James smiled and nodded. "It is." He closed his eyes. "It's perfect. If I died right here, right now, that would be just fine with me."

But when he opened his eyes and looked over at Harry, the older man's smile had faded. Just a moment ago his eyes had been sleepy and full of love, but there was something else there now instead. Worry. Fear. "It wouldn't be all right with me," Harry whispered back, far too serious.

James leaned up on one arm. "Harry," he said carefully. "No, no, that... wasn't what I meant, you know that." His could feel his heart speeding up at the look in Harry's eyes, a look he never wanted to see there. "I'm not going anywhere, Harry, I'm right here." He pressed a reassuring kiss to the other man's forehead and Harry grunted at him and wrapped both arms tight around him, pulling him down against him until their bodies were perfectly aligned, buried his face into James's neck, and held him as close as he possibly could.

James just sighed, rubbed his back and kissed his neck, holding him. "Harry..."

"You have no idea, James," the older man muttered against the skin of his shoulder, his voice heavy. "How often I... think about that."

"About what?" James prompted. He knew the older man had trouble talking about his emotions sometimes, needed someone to be gentle with him and coax him along.

"I worry," Harry muttered, clearly trying very hard to keep himself from getting choked up. "The two of us... and what we do. You know there's... a very slim chance of both of us actually living long enough to grow old together."

"Oh... Harry." James swallowed, squeezed him tight.

"You could die any day, James, either of us could. And then..." His fingers pressed hard against James's back, his voice growing quiet. "What would we do?"

"I... I don't know," James muttered. What did you even say to something like that? "Just... do our best to move on, I suppose."

Harry shook his head against James's shoulders, and he was trembling just slightly. "I don't think I could," he muttered. "If you... if you died, James, I just... wouldn't be okay, I just wouldn't."

James squeezed him close again, rubbed his back in long, soothing strokes, and kissed his neck and jaw, then drew back enough to look at his eyes, cupping his cheek in one warm palm. He smiled at him, because he knew that was the best thing he could do for Harry. "Then I just won't," he said, like it was that simple. "I won't die, and neither will you, and we'll beat the odds and grow old together, just like you want to." He ran his thumb over Harry's cheekbone, curled his fingers into his hair. "And each time I leave, no matter what happens, I'll always come back to you. I promise. I'll never, ever leave you."

Harry let out a slow, shaky breath, and managed a hint of a smile for him. That was enough, and James leaned forward and kissed him, kissed him long and slow and then deepened it and hummed into it and tangled their limbs together and stroked his hair. Harry held him close in return, tilting his head into the kiss, and James wiped away the tears brimming at the corners of the older man's eyes with his thumb and kissed him more, and kissed him and kissed him until he finally felt Harry relax, and then just curled tight against him and stayed there.

Reaching out, he took Harry's hand, tangled their fingers together, and squeezed his palm, both of them letting out long, slow breaths.

"We'll be okay, Harry," James assured him, trying to keep his voice steady, even if he knew he couldn't be sure. Even if they both knew that. "We'll be okay."


End file.
